The Angel Swear
by Lunar-ninja
Summary: When it's snowing, sometimes you find the nicest people doing the most extraodinary acts of love in different ways. Mike centric oneshot. Has nothing to do with the song Calling on Angels


**Disclaimer: **Nope. Don't own the TMNT, and never will.

A/N: I decided a one-shot was in order, especially because I'm having writer's block on DM. (kicks writer's block) This is just meant to be a cute Winter one-shot, and really has no point, if not to make you laugh at one part and go aww at another. Chibi, Sassy, and pacphys, this is partly for you.

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It was a sunny winter's day in New York (if there is such a thing) and Michelangelo had never felt more alive. The birds were chirping, the snow was sparkling, the air was crisp, and man, oh, man, was it ever a good day for shell sliding! "Yahooo!" Mikey, trench coat, fedora and all, hopped into the air and landed on his carapace, the slope of the hill he'd been standing on carrying him down to the bottom. Amidst the bouncing and jarring of his vision, the turtle spotted a snow bank at the bottom of the incline. With a whoop, he slammed into it, disappearing amongst the white.

He popped out, sputtering for all he was worth, and grabbed his hat from where it had stuck, wedging it back onto his domed head. "Wish the guys could've come!" Mikey wriggled out and stood to brush the snowflakes off his trench coat when he caught sight of a ten year-old girl sitting on a beat-up old bench, reading a comic book. It basically screamed 'Come see me, fellow geek!' He adjusted his orange scarf before tramping through the crunchy snow towards her.

She looked up when the noise got louder. "Oh, I'm sorry mister, did you want to sit here?" she asked courteously, readying herself to scoot. Mikey waved his gloved hand, signaling no.

_Cute kid. _"What cha doing out here?" he asked, flopping down beside her.

The girl showed him her Justice Force book. "Readin'."

"Cool! Issue twenty-five! Did you just get it?"

She grinned as a snowflake landed on her flushed nose. "Yeah, I did. I know everybody's already read it, so don't spoil it for me by telling me what happens."

"Wouldn't dream of it." A small gust of wind upset her green scarf, unwinding it a tad. She quickly wrapped it around her neck again, as if something was supposed to be hidden. Mikey tried to ignore it. "Don't you have a family, kid?"

"Anna. And yes, kinda." Anna smiled as though it was painful to talk about. "My dad's an alchoholic and he hits my mom sometimes. I don't hang around because he gets real cranky and sometimes hits me too." Mike winced appreciatively. "So I come out here for peace. School's not much of a protection either. There are kids who pick on me for my scars." _Scars are nothin', kid._

Shouting children ran by, brandishing snowballs and throwing them at each other with victorious whoops when they hit their target. Anna watched with a bit of longing evident on her face. "You have any hobbies, Anna?"

The girl grinned evilly. "I have a big brother. I don't know if you could count this as a hobby, but I lie on his bed and pitch his briefs and dirty socks at the ceiling fan when I get bored. It's pretty fun watching them sail out the bedroom door." Mikey held his stomach as he giggled uproariously. "You think that's pretty hilarious, don't you, mister?"

The turtle nodded under his hat. "Yeah, I think it's hysterical, considering I've got my own brothers to deal with."

"Really? What are they like?"

"Well, there's a really smart one. And I'm not talking good SAT scores, I'm talking genius. Makes a new invention every month it seems." Anna shut her Justice Force book, keeping a finger between the pages to keep her place as she listened to Mike. "Then there's the brother who's just serious. I swear, I don't think I've ever seen him grin for more than ten seconds at a time. The last one is a tough guy. He's got the bad boy look on the outside, but he's a real softie. I can remember him begging my dad to let him raise a box of kittens. I helped out."

"They sound nice," Anna mumbled almost wistfully. "What are their names? What's yours?"

The turtle shrugged uncomfortably. "Ah…My dad says I'm not really supposed to tell, but you can call me Mikey."

"Okay, Mikey." The girl shifted. "Can I…um, can I show you something? Promise you won't call me ugly."

"What makes you think I'd call _anybody_ ugly?"

"Alright…" Anna began undoing her scarf, revealing slash marks by her throat and cheekbone. "I got these when I was five. My dad was drunk and he started stabbing me with a knife, yelling I wasn't good for anything."

Mike's face hardened. "Anna…" he began. "You have to tell somebody about this…"

She covered them up again. "I – want to, but…I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

"My brother…He'd kill me if he heard that I had dad arrested. He and dad are close like that; they get drunk on the same stuff. That's why he's never home…"

Mike grabbed her and shook her gently. "Will you listen to yourself?" Her eyes widened. "Get a grip, Anna. You can't live like this anymore. What if one day he kills you…what if one day he goes too far? What will you do then?" She sighed.

"Mikey, I don't know what to think anymore. Every time I think I've found somebody I can trust, they always betray it." Anna looked up at him pleadingly. "Please be the one person I can trust, Mikey!" He hugged her.

"Why do they betray you?"

She rubbed her sleeve-covered arm and shivered. "I have a rare disease that makes my bones brittle. They break easily. That's why I almost died when my dad stabbed me." The cloud of fog she breathed out into the frigid air was growing rapidly as she exhaled. "My spine nearly gave out because of the traumatizing blows he dealt. I can't fall or I'll break a leg. And a number of times, people have tried giving me treatment, but…I hate doctors. I hate them because they make you think you can trust them and out of the blue they give you a shot or give you sleepy gas." _Probably her term for anesthesia. _

Mike patted her shoulder gently, knowing that he might hurt her frail form. "They only try to help you, Anna."

"I don't want their help, Mikey! I just want to live my life! Is that too much to ask?"

"No, it isn't," Mike replied. "But I think you should go home now. How did you get here anyway?"

The girl pointed to a small walker next to the bench. "It's the only way I can get around," she explained. The turtle scratched his chin.

"Well, you know what I think about that old beater, Anna?" She hid a smile. "I think it's way too slow for a rough and tumble girl like you. I'll carry you home."

Anna frowned. "Are you sure that isn't any trouble for you, Mikey?"

Mike waved his hand. "Nah, I'll bring Old Betsy by your apartment later, 'kay?" She giggled at his term of endearment for her walker. The turtle stood and adjusted his pants with a grunt, brushing off the snow that had landed on his coat. "Can you stand?" Anna shook her brown-haired head. "Fine by me then!" He gripped her waist and swung her up into his arms. "Where's your house?"

"The East Side. I'll recognize the blocks when we get close."

"If you ask me, a lovely young lady such as yourself shouldn't be living in a rough housing neighborhood like that," he muttered, tramping away from the lonely bench.

Ten minutes later, Mikey sat on the fire escape, waving goodbye to his newfound friend. "Bye, Anna!"

"See you, Mikey. I've got a date with the ceiling fan." Anna reached out of the grungy window and squeezed the turtle affectionately. He watched her walk carefully out of the room and into the main apartment hallway. Mikey sighed and dropped down into the alley below, landing stealthily on a snow-covered dumpster, vaulting off to land on the ground.

Just as he was about to enter an adjoining alley, he heard a feminine scream and whirled. Entering the alley was a woman, terrified beyond measure, it seemed. She was carrying a purse. _That explains it!_ Mike got ready to do some heavy duty 'chukking when she darted past his shadowy form.

"Where'd she go?"

"Darlin', where are you?"

"C'mere, sweetums, and gimme some love!"

_Well, there's only three. Should be easy enough. _"Yeah, three punks with guns," Mike growled, bolting out of the shadows and whacking the first Dragon with his right hand 'chuk, kicking the dastardly fellow into the wall and knocking him out with a well-placed punch. The turtle ducked another blow, flipped backwards over a trashcan, seized the grimy lid, and flung it at the offending hoodlum, striking him in the gut. He doubled over with a groan, hitting the ground when a green foot smashed into his back.

The last one, clearly aware that physical combat wouldn't win the day, pulled out his gun, cocked it, and fired. The bullet missed his arm, burying itself in the wall behind him. Gun Boy still had another bullet left, though. Mikey jumped for the alley he'd just emerged from, where Anna's apartment was, hoping to catch GB off guard when he turned the corner. True to gullible hoodlum manner, GB rounded the corner fearlessly, meeting a green fist that smashed his face, sending him sailing into an open dumpster. With finality, Mike jumped and slammed the lid. GB's groans echoed inside.

"Mikey, are you okay?"

The turtle looked up, losing his hat in the process. "Uh-oh," he mumbled when Anna's eyes widened. "Don't scream, Anna, don't scream…"

She gulped when he grabbed the fire escape and swung up. "Are you…real?" she asked, putting out her hand to touch his scaly cheek. His eyes told her an affirmative.

"So, who's the ugly one now?" he jibed.

Anna smiled nervously. "You are, I guess."

"Thanks ever so." The turtle bowed.

"What are you, exactly, Mikey?"

"I'm a turtle, and proud to be one! But," he said with a warning shush. "You gotta promise you won't tell _anybody _about me, 'kay? Agreed?" He held out his pinkie.

She clasped her own in his. "Pinkie promise, and may an angel strike me dead if I lie," she whispered.

"Say, now, no swearing on angels. I'm off to get the Old Beater. Be back in a few." He readied himself for departure, but stopped. "Oh, and one more thing. Look for a present by your window on Christmas Eve." Anna looked quizzical but nodded.

Five days later on Christmas, Anna crawled to her window and peeped out. On the fire escape was a package. Excited about its contents, she righted herself and opened the window, leaning out to grab it. Once inside again, she blew snowflakes out of her hair as she looked at the curiously plain brown package. When she opened it, she found a copy of the twenty-sixth issue of Justice Force and a note scrawled in comic book-like printing:

_Hey, Anna! _

'_Tis me, Mikey. Thought you might like this present, because after all, you're a comic geek like me, and I know what comic geeks like. Have a great Christmas and you might see me right about…now._

Anna looked up in surprise and there on her railing sat Michelangelo, grinning like a Cheshire cat. When she waved, he waved back and disappeared.

_A surprise will always do you good, even if it's a prank, Anna. And I guess that Angel Swear's still there, because you and I still look happy. _

_Your green friend,_

_Michelangelo_

_P.S. Being green is overrated. If Santa's elves don't get bored with their color of clothing, they have to be pretty tolerant.

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Welp, now I feel accomplished indeed. Hope you liked it!

LN


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